What I really want is a healthy romantic relationship with a tall man who has shoulder-length hair, a deep voice, and an attractive nose. I want sleepy mornings in bed, cuddled together with his nose lazily rubbing against the side of my neck. The room is quiet except for his occasional mumbling and our synced breathing—except, his breath hitches one, twice, three times in desperately increasing pitch until he quickly turns away to sneeze uncovered into the untouched air. The sound is loud enough to startle me out of my contended haze, yet not enough to make me physically jump.
I offer a soft “bless you,” as he turns back to me and resumes his previous position, mumbling a “thanks.” I wonder if the single sneeze is enough to satisfy the tickle in his nose, or if he will need to repeat the action. My question is answered within a minute when I feel his chest expanding against my side, accompanied with the most desperate hitch in the back of his throat. A few seconds pass, yet there is no sneeze. Just as he is about to relax once again, the sneeze erupts with such a speed that he is unable to turn away. Instead, he curls into my body and the sneeze sprays my bare stomach.
“Bless you,” I say with an emphasis that the action deserves.
He sniffles and rubs his nose with a knuckle, “Fuck, I don’t know what just got into me.”
“I don’t know, but I can’t say I mind it.” I admit, brushing the stray strands of hair out of his face.
He smirks, “Good, because on second thhh... thought...”
